Days of Joy

Sometimes beauty surprises us.

As life spins around us, thick with frustrations and waiting and disappointments and slippery ice and burned toast and rusty-brown well water that turns laundry orange, every now and then we catch our breath. In amazement, delight. A skipped heartbeat of "can this be real?"

And that's where I am today. Caught by surprise, like a sky full of snow-clad branches surprisingly diamond-bright against a coal-blue sky.

God's mysteries wrapped up like a Christmas gift, glittering in the shadows.

My post will be short today because my heart is full. 

After all these years, we welcome home our second little one - named Seth after the consolation gift of a son God sent to Adam and Eve - and can hardly contain our delight. Even with C-section stitches, a stretched-out belly, pain medication, sleepless nights, migraines, and fumbling for bottles in the middle of the night, the wonder still stays, frost-like, sparkling in a thousand winter colors.

God has heard our prayer and answered, and we are speechless with gratitude.

As if one little child wasn't enough - more than enough - beautiful, precious, praise-worthy enough - He has blessed us with two.

Sometimes just when we think we have life all figured out, God throws us a curve ball.

A curve ball  with blue eyes and blond-thin eyebrows and succulent rosy cheeks. A curve ball that smells of baby powder and has ten perfect pink toes. My mind is clogged with warm fleece sleep suits and baby socks and tiny newborn diapers. I cannot write my newest novel ideas; I cannot remember a before or imagine an after. I would forget to eat if it wasn't for my exhausted, depleted stomach screaming after sleepless nights of feedings and diaperings.

I cannot think in poetry - the world explodes in it instead, falling around me like snowflakes.

If you've ever been surprised by God's mercies to the undeserving, you will know how I feel at this moment - as the new year rings in silently around me.

I have not even noticed.

I'm too busy whispering a fervent prayer of unbelieving thanks.

The Sacrifice of Thankfulness

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day in the United States, a time when families gather around a traditional turkey dinner. Some go to great lengths to commemorate the historical events which brought us the holiday, a tribute to the first autumn harvest shared by Plymouth colonists and Wampanoag Indians in 1621. Later, proclaimed a national day of observance by President Abraham Lincoln.

 

Ideally, it’s a warm and cozy gathering of loved ones where you eat delectable treats, exchange warm laughter, and give thanks for the bounty in your life.

As a Christian, one can deepen that spirit of thankfulness by acknowledging that it is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord…

But what if, even in the spirit of Thanksgiving, it hasn’t been a very good season? I know that here in the States, amid a struggling economy and the escalating unemployment, many people are dealing with very difficult conditions. A job lost; an illness or death in the family, relational tension or misunderstandings. Maybe weariness has moved in because circumstances have enacted mutiny and any kind of relief looks distant.

Life, in those moments, can leave you feeling vulnerable, confused, drained, frustrated, discouraged, and questioning.

I found several references in the Bible regarding thankfulness. Truly, it is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord. But when those periods in life occur when you just don’t feel it in your bones to muster the strength or desire, when every wall has caved in on you, it then becomes a sacrifice.

During trying situations, my own face has brushed the floor, prostrate, as I’ve uttered a desperate, heavenward cry. Just in case I missed something – if there is some unknown thing in my heart that needs dealt with, I say to my Lord: create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me (Psalm 51:10), and, help me to be transformed by the renewing of my mind (Romans 12:2).

When all is checked and there’s nothing left to do, though my heart might not want to due to disappointment in life’s sharp twists and turns, my mouth will utter simple thanks. With trembling I lift up a cup in praise. This is my sacrifice. I can only hope it is pleasing to my Lord, a bittersweet aroma drifting up from the altar of my fragility. On occasion, I have even whispered in brokenness…don’t forget about me.

It is usually at that point when I greatly sense the Lord—in his mercy, compassion, and benevolence—his love for his child—bend his ear low and listen. I would feel him. Know that he is near. That he envelops me in his presence. And that I might receive divine instruction accompanied with comfort.

Peace.

“…what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?” (Psalm 8:4)

It is because of his great love for us that our concerns are more his than ours.

Thankfulness sometimes is a sacrifice. But it’s also a uniquely beautiful, divine, and pleasing surrender that has the power to uplift, instill hope, and transform when everything else fails.

Tessa Stockton is a multi-genre novelist of romance and intrigue. She is the author of The Unforgivable. Her second novel, The Unspeakable, a suspense/thriller set in Colombia, is scheduled for release in January 2013.  She also has several fantasy-romance novellas slated to follow thereafter. Visit www.TessaStockton.com

Giving thanks in all things

"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." - 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Thanksgiving is approaching, and it's my first Thanksgiving home in the U.S. after close to ten years abroad: two in Japan as a missionary, and eight with my Brazilian husband back in his native Brazil.

Winters and summers in other countries have increased my love of fall a hundredfold: pumpkins, apple cider, frost on the grass. 

I love fall.

And I love Thanksgiving. My mouth waters in anticipation of creamy sweet potato casserole topped with melty marshmallows (a Southern specialty). Crusty brown turkey dripping with juices. Green bean casserole and fluffy yeast rolls and mashed potatoes with gravy. Pumpkin pie and Jello salad. (Yes, the Southern, quivery, artificially-colored Jello salad with Cool Whip - whose ingredients I couldn't begin to pronounce).

Dinner fantasies aside, everywhere I look I see thankfulness - joy - appreciation for the wonderful things God has given my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. Even my friends who do not yet believe in the One who died for their sins are thankful, making lists on Facebook and recognizing the blessings that overflow in their lives.

As fall fades to winter in rural South Dakota, I am reminded of thankfulness.

And I am reminded of pain.

Of mistakes made that can no longer be corrected. Of relatives gone and buried, covered by wild cemetery grasses and the faint honking of geese overhead. 

I am reminded of hard years - painful years - harsh years - where living sometimes seemed more difficult than giving up, and the balance of what seemed "fair" and "unfair" tipped so far toward "unfair" that the entire scale threatened to topple over.

I am reminded of emptiness. Of grief. Of questions that, until today, do not have answers, or even comfort.

And yet, as I look out over the snow-frosted mountains and rolling fields of the Black Hills, I realize that those things - all of them, as dark as they are -  form the basis for one unexpected thing: thankfulness.

They are what cause me to pause, wide-eyed, at a forgotten elm tree in a scrubby cow pasture that has suddenly turned to gold.

For true thankfulness, you see, begins in the heart - and the heart cannot find true contentment until it has learned to give thanks in all things.

In all things, both joyful and heartbreaking.

Not for all things, perhaps, but in all things. In all seasons. In and out of our corridors of grief, and in the half-glow of hindsight that sheds wisdom and grace and even healthy regret along our pathway. 

In injustice and suffering, and in the valley of the shadow of death, even, "for You are with me." 

Thanksgiving is not just about the good, it's about the whole.

And therein lies the crux of thankgiving: a steady leaning up Christ with our wobbly faith, weak as it is, and looking upon all of life as a blessing - as a sacred gift - as a mysterious glory that plays out all across the length of our days.

Ten years ago, you see, I was surrounded by perfect Virginia trees aflame with autumn: reds, golds, rusts. Would this single elm, alive with sunlight, have captured my admiration as much if I not spent nearly a decade away from the America I love, away from fall, away from golden leaves?

Would I delight as much in the rounded globe of my belly if I had not spent eight years praying for a blessing on my empty womb?

Would I love these rolling hills of South Dakota so dearly if I had not wrestled with years of numbing homesickness? Would I delight in the utter silence of vast and empty plains if I had not struggled to fall asleep in the roar of urban delivery mopeds and un-mufflered trucks?

Would I love anything, anything as much if I had not first tasted the grief of sin, the regret of guilt, and finally the surprising joy of redemption?

We have all suffered, lost greatly, groaned along with creation as we wait for our Lord's returning. And by some inexplicable paradox, He uses it all to make us better people.

Who would I be without my mistakes, my failings? Without the pain and suffering just under the skin that reminds me I, too, am a fragile sojourner on this earth, in desperate need of Christ's mercy and transformation?

Who would I be without the injustice that build in me tenderness and forgiveness, the rejection and suffering that instruct me in compassion, the disappointment in human relationships that cause me to look to my Father and Healer and to our eternal home?

This, to me, is true thanksgiving: embracing it all for the sake of Christ.

And still daring to whisper "thank you."

For all of it, Lord, thank you.

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What are you thankful for this year?

What difficult circumstances has God used to increase thankfulness in you?

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Jennifer Rogers Spinola is the author of Barbour's "Southern Fried Sushi" series and an upcoming novella collection about Yellowstone National Park (also with Barbour). Her first novel, "Southern Fried Sushi," was named a Christy Award finalist in 2012. Jenny lives in South Dakota with her husband, Athos, and four-year-old son, Ethan, with a second son due in December (if he waits that long!) Right now she's trying to get the swelling her feet to go down and wishing she didn't have to make dinner.

A Gratitude List

Gratitude and thankfulness seem to be severely lacking in our world at times. People expect others to cater to their needs yet often when they do, there is not even a word of thanks. This attitude can even rear its head in the way we treat God. How often have you or I prayed and then forgotten to give God our gratitude, praise and the glory when He answers, often even more wonderfully than we could have imagined?

So today I thought l would share some of the things I am grateful for in my life. I’m grateful for:

 God’s grace that called me into His family and the salvation won for me through Jesus and His death on the cross.

God’s Word which helps me learn more about God, his mighty plan of salvation and what He expects of me.

The privilege of prayer and knowing the value of praying for others, as well as being prayed for.

My husband of over forty years who is still the love of my life, my best friend and the one I enjoy spending time with. I love that we go to church, pray and share God’s word at home together.

Our married adult son and daughter who are walking with the Lord, married to believers, serving the Lord in their own churches and communities and who are teaching their children His ways. What a huge blessing that is.

For the church we are part of and the concern for each other shown in this church. For the feeling of belonging.

For good friends who share our lives and for Christian friends online who share the trials and joys of being a writer.

The place where we live, where God’s creation is so evident. Just yesterday morning as my husband and I went walking, we were blessed with the sight of kangaroos that we share our space with. At present a number of them have joeys in their pouches. They look so cute.

Sweet peas in our garden flower pink and purple. There is nothing like the smell of sweet peas to lift the spirits, so I’m, thankful for the gift of smell. Orchids and moth orchids brighten up our dining area and sweet peas and pansies are on the table in the living area.

The cheerful yellow and orange of browallia in my front garden. This photo is the parent plant of mine given me as a cutting from a friend.

Sunrises and sunsets. Two of my favourite times of day. These photos were taken at a beach near to our home.

The ability to be able to walk and stand and do things after my spinal operation over a year ago. Relief from pain and the outstanding result of the operation which came through prayer and plenty of it as well as the doctor’s skill.

Singing at church, in the car and just about anywhere else. The gift of music.

Sight to see all of the wonders God has made and to be able to read. I can’t imagine a world without books. I’m thankful for writers who write the kinds of books I like to read and for variety in reading.

Imagination. Without imagination and creativity we would have no books, no stories, no art, no craft, inventions and spectacular l buildings. The Sydney Opera House is one of my favourite buildings.

Words to communicate to my loved ones and friends how much they mean to me and words to use in my writing.  Poetry - I love the way words can be used to make different and beautiful patterns of sound and meaning.

Last but by no means least, my football team that just won the 2012 AFL premiership and my husband and I were able to see it and share in the joy. If that’s an amazing experience, and it was, it made me think how much greater it will be when we are around the throne of our Lord and God all praising Him together.

Over to you now. I’d love to hear some of the things you are thankful for.

 Streets on a Map, Dale’s latest novel was published by Ark House Press. Prior to that, Dale has had seven children’s books and Kaleidoscope a collection of poetry published. Many poems in Kaleidoscope have been previously published in Australia’s literary magazines. She has also written bible studies and Sunday school lessons.More information about Dale can be found at www.daleharcombe.com or on her Write and Read with Dale blog http://www.livejournal.com/users/orangedale/